


Übung macht den Meister

by Daegaer



Category: Weiss Kreuz AU
Genre: 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Assassins & Hitmen, Gen, Psychic Abilities, Spies & Secret Agents, Weimar Germany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On undercover assignment, Schuldig plays at being an ordinary person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Übung macht den Meister

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/profile)[**indelicateink**](http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/) who suggested a prompt of Weimar Berlin AU and "attention to detail." This is a Weiss Kreuz AU, set in the winter of 1931, in Berlin. It is a prequel to [ Für Immer Verloren](http://archiveofourown.org/works/764460) (set in 1932) and [ Halbjahr in Berlin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767699) (set in 1933).
> 
>  

Schuldig climbed, a little heavy-footed, up onto the stage. Behind him the waiters were crowded at a table, laughing and eating the snacks that were all any of the café's staff usually allowed themselves. Schuldig looked sourly at the stage's velvet hangings, noting the dust. The café did not look its best in anything approaching daylight and the grubbiness was all too apparent. It was a shame, he thought, that he had to pretend to be the sort of man who didn't notice such things when he was very much the sort of man who did. The new waiter's delightfully practiced laugh rang out behind him and Schuldig winced. Uwe had been practicing it for an hour.

He paced the stage over and back, as he did every day. Step, step, pause, slight step back to avoid the board that squeaked – leave that for the comic acts – try to keep the steps dignified and in time with the music that would be playing during his act, not with the hangover pounding in his head. He paused, feeling utterly nauseous.

"Does anyone have any aspirin?"

All of them shook their heads. Some of them were laughing at him, and Schuldig felt a great desire to share his hangover with them. It would be odd, though, if some of the waiters suddenly got ill, especially as they weren't eating food prepared in the café. Hans at least really was as sympathetic as his expression suggested.

"Hans – you must be able to help me?"

"I'm sorry – I could run out and get something?"

"Hans, there's no time," Willi said. "We have to get changed – really, he has you wrapped round his finger."

"Hans would like that, wouldn't you?" Uwe laughed, and Schuldig closed his eyes in pain.

"Forget it," he snapped, and went back to practicing his steps. The act might not change much, but the café's stage was rickety and temperamental and it paid to know if there were any new weak spots, especially when he was going to be half blinded by the one strong light in the place, was wearing heels and had to do the whole damn thing with a headache. _\- hasn't been back for a week I knew it never trusted him I bet he's married the bastard – God why did I eat that pie I shouldn't have eaten that pie - looks a bit peaky maybe I should run out to the chemist I could be there in five minutes I should just have gone when I said why did I listen to Willi – I bet he dyes his hair to match the wig -_ "Oh, shut the hell up, Uwe," Schuldig muttered, and hummed loudly to distract himself from the never-ending chatter. He only realized he was singing along with passers-by on the street about the flag being raised high when the others were laughing at him.

"We all like sharply-dressed men, but do you have to sing _that_ here?" Willi said cheerfully.

Schuldig grinned, falsely and easily. It was time to rest, he thought, if he couldn't even tell when he was overhearing SA fools. Another few minutes and he would be forgetting himself to the point where he would want to go out and pick fights, and bedamned to any and all of Eszett's plans and desires. "You know how it is," he said getting off the stage, "they get under your skin, into your mind –"

"And into your bed, with your Aryan looks," Uwe smiled.

"Please, brown is _not_ my colour."

Schuldig pulled over a chair to sit beside Hans. "Anyone really think they're thin enough to chance that last bit of pastry? No? Good, I'm starving." He ate the pastry, and a couple of slices of beef he found wrapped in wax paper by Willi's plate, then helped himself to one of Hans' cigarettes and lit up, smiling genially at them all. They weren't a bad lot. "I hope you get to see your friend tonight, Klaus," he said, and meant it, a wave of snack-and-nicotine-fuelled goodwill buoying him up.

"Who knows?" Klaus said, "plenty more fish, right?" _\- more than a_ week _damn it -_

"Yeah," Schuldig said, quite kindly, "plenty more fish."

"You'd know," Uwe said, "the number of men who go round to your dressing room – I mean, we're all quite jealous, aren't we, boys? You might leave _one_ or two for us to make friends with. And you're not even satisfied with that, you have to have poor Hans here dancing attendance on you too."

Schuldig looked at his pretty, smiling face, and entertained a brief fantasy of simply standing up, leaning across the table and slitting his throat. It was probably an overreaction for a catty remark, but he really _did_ have a bad hangover. He settled for putting an arm around Hans' shoulders and feeling a glow of warmth as the man tried not to twitch too much at the touch. Dear Hans, he did try to hide his feelings.

"Pull your little claws back in, Uwe, or you might meet a bigger pussycat who will scratch that nice little face of yours," he said mildly.

Uwe rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes. I'm terrified. So terrified I'm going to go and get ready. Do you want a soda-water for that hangover?"

"Yes, actually," Schuldig said. "You get to live for another night." Everyone laughed. He looked ruminatively over at the bar as Uwe got the soda-water. "You know, he's awfully pretty, but I don't remember ever telling him he could call me _Du_."

Willi laughed, and patted him on the cheek. "Don't be like that, we're all friends here, aren't we?" He pushed himself back from the table and looked at Hans and Klaus. "We'd better get ready too, boys."

Schuldig kept hold of Hans, pinning him in his chair. "Hänschen, darling," he said, "do you think you _could_ go and get me some aspirin? I really do have a beast of a headache and I feel like I'm about to die." He gave Hans his very best smile. "You could be back in five minutes –"

Hans was nodding before he even finished speaking. It was astonishing, Schuldig thought, what results _liking_ a person could produce. He had never once had to influence Hans in any way past simply asking him to do something. It was a warning, he thought, never to let his own emotions become involved with another person.

Soda-water in hand he sat in the empty café, watching the smoke from his cigarette. Another day, he thought, in which his practice of playing at ordinary life – well, relatively ordinary, he smiled – had been perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical notes: SA – Sturmabteilung (Stormtroopers)  
> Schuldig inadvertently finds himself humming the [Horst Wessel Song](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horst-Wessel-Lied)


End file.
